


The First Encounter Before Many

by TheDarkLordChaos



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, Harry Potter Loves Tom Riddle, M/M, Tom Riddle Loves Harry Potter, Tom is a bastard, but we all know that, harry found out the hard way, he kinda likes it though lol, it’s just harry and tom being harry and tom, no mag school au, these two are idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:53:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22994266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkLordChaos/pseuds/TheDarkLordChaos
Summary: Tom wanted coffee, and Harry just wanted to peacefully adjust to a new school in the shadows. When a confrontation happens with Tom, resident pretty boy of Hogwarts, that’s unlikely to happen anytime soon. The least he can do is apologize.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Comments: 12
Kudos: 210





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.
> 
> AN: Heyyy guys. I know this wouldn’t appease me but I’m sorry about the lack of updating on other stories. I’m not sure at this point whether or not I’ll continue them.

Tom walked through the school doors, an expression on his face, the kind considered unfriendly, though most took to mean as: interpretable to you; convince me you aren’t useless. And so would start the power struggle meant to capture the affections of one Tom Riddle. Despite all the madness in this, which included flowers, chocolates, and nothing short of dozens of love letters, (which only increased during holidays,) none of this seemed to work on Tom. He had become rather famous (or infamous depending on your view,) through the school for his apathy toward fellow classmates, and the common stare at any peer that dared to interact with him; this was the stare that had never yet failed to induce a plummeting sensation in the stomach. (If you were to ask someone whether it was from fear or awe they wouldn’t know.) 

On the other side of the same coin, was Harry Potter, Hogwarts’ newest transfer student, and famed for his knowledge in self defense and martial arts. Most of the students found that it was quite easy to like Harry Potter, so none would have easily admitted to their turning of a blind eye to the confrontation that happened when Harry Potter walked through the school doors, tripped on something no one could yet name, and fell into the back of Tom Riddle, knocking them both to the ground. The momentum of this movement jarred Tom’s bottle of water from its place in the backpack’s side pouch, a hydro flask; the sound it made against the linoleum racketed around in echos through the room, layered in crescendo, and then silence from the students. Harry was quick to stand, almost tripping again in order to get to his feet, and multiple breaths were held as he reached out, sheepish, toward Tom. It was obvious to most of the students that this wouldn’t be something taken well; they were right.

Tom was tired. But that wasn’t surprising, morning had never held a good relationship with him, and usually he had coffee to act as a buffer for them until he was either awake enough to fake pleasantries, or until morning had given way to noon. This morning however, he had come to the unpleasant realization that he had drank the last of his coffee the day before, and forgotten to get more. He wasn’t usually pleased in the morning, but today he was prepared to murder. In an attempt to make up for his lack of coffee he had even more carefully bottled his water that morning, adding precisely seven ice cubes, and three slices of lemon. This water bottle had been ruthlessly attacked from his bag and was treated no more kindly by the floor. That was his water bottle with ice cubes and specially prepared lemons. He had no coffee. He. Had. No. Coffee. Without thinking about it, (which he came to regret later,) he swung his hand to the right and knocked the arm of whichever godforsaken student had turned his morning into even more of a hell than it already had been. The amount of force he’d put into the swing probably hadn’t been necessary, but it knocked the student back down to the floor, and that was infinitely more satisfying. He had the feeling that he’d interrupted their apology but they didn’t look so apologetic now. In fact they seemed rather indignant. This didn’t seem right to Tom, because if anyone had the right to be indignant it was him. It was his water bottle that was dented now. And he still didn’t have coffee! 

“Hey! I said I was sorry! You didn’t need to push me over.” 

This was said by the water bottle killer.

“Really. I didn’t hear,” he replied, and it wasn’t a lie. 

No one needed to know it was because he wasn’t paying attention. The boy was still on the ground, and he looked mildly put out by this, and stared at him even as Tom delicately placed his water bottle back into the pouch and swung his bag onto his shoulders.

“Oh. Well. Sorry.” 

He looked sheepish again, which satisfied Tom.

“Of course you are.”

Tom turned and left. He wasn’t going to wait around for more conversation. 

It was during lunch, that Tom realized he had made a mistake. He had been sitting in a corner of the library, his version of a lunch table, and reading when the boy who had killed his water bottle sat down next to him.

“Uhm,” said the boy.

Tom didn’t give him a glance. He was hoping out of sight out of mind applied in real life. 

“Excuse me,” whispered the boy, but it was an unsure wavering kind of whisper that Tom could pretend not to have heard, “uhm. I just wanted to say. Sorry. Again. About earlier. I know I said sorry when it first happened, but I don’t know, you seemed upset, and I guess it really was my fault and I didn’t have any right to be snappy with you and— ok sorry just here.”

The boy pushed two things toward him, and it was only then that Tom looked up, if only to see what the boy was rambling about. It turned out to be a plastic bottle of water, and a soda, both the kind you could buy from their cafeteria, both not even on a level Tom could call subpar.

“What’s this mess?” He asked.

“I— what?” 

The indignation was back again. It was almost amusing, usually people were too wary to be indignant.

“I said. What’s this mess?”

“You— you prat! It’s an apology! And— never mind. Forget it! Bloody tosser!” 

The boy turned to leave, but Tom found he didn’t want him to. He was curious. For the moment, he could put the murder of his water bottle behind them.

“Pardon me if that came across as rude, I just didn’t know what to make of it.”

The boy definitely turned back around at that.

“Came across as— you’re such a prick!”

Tom was rather amused.

“Really? Alright then, I apologize. I acknowledge that I was ‘a prick’ and have a grand wish to improve myself with your company.” He leaned forward slightly and set his book aside. “Please sit. I never caught your name.”

The boy gave him a suspicious look, but sat down to Tom’s right.

“I’m Harry.”

“And I’m Tom. It’s a pleasure to meet you Harry.”

Harry frowned. “You’re awfully nice when you want to be.”

“Take it as a compliment. I don’t often want to be nice.” Tom replied.

They stared at each other for a moment.

“Would you explain how you were trying to apologize Harry, I’m afraid I rather rudely interrupted you.”

“Right well, I saw how big the dent on your hydro flask was, and I figured the insulation must have been broken. I couldn’t get you a new water bottle today but... I could get you some cold water,” he gestured to the cafeteria water bottle, the outside still glazed from the cooler. “And I asked around, students say that you put lemons in your water sometimes so. Lemon lime soda is close enough right?” 

Harry gave a smile that looked strained but Tom was oddly touched by the gesture. It was the most interesting apology he had ever received. And he didn’t mind it.

“Well... Harry. Thank you. And I accept your apology. Will you accept mine?”

“Yours? Oh! Yes! Of course. I guess we were both being gits.”

Tom smiled a bit, and Harry’s stomach did one of those classic flutters, except he’d describe it more as a chaotically shifting bag of rice because his whole torso down also felt unbelievably heavy. Harry watched Tom carefully pour some of the soda into the water, and then some of the water into the soda, and again, and again, until the can and the bottle had a liquid of about an equal mix. Tom handed the can to Harry with that same slight smile.

“A toast?” Asked Tom.

Harry smiled. “To a new friendship.” 

Tom nodded his agreement, and a chuckle managed to escape his lips; it made Harry blink like he’d been put under a spotlight and told to dance. His heart was definitely dancing. Tom’s smile was still on his face, it was almost a smirk. It suited the bastard perfectly. Harry decided that he hated it.

“To a new friendship.” Tom echoed.

They touched their bottle and can together respectively, and drank.


	2. Smile Then Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has a gift for Tom’s birthday, something small but he hopes it’s enough. Tom hadn’t remembered it was his birthday at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was inspired so I wrote another chapter for this, not sure what will happen in the future with this fic but we’ll see.

Harry had been acting suspiciously all day, and Tom most certainly did not like it. Despite being sorted into slytherin, Harry didn’t seem to possess a single subtle bone in his body and it was obvious with the way he had been acting. Skittish was one thing, but today, Harry seemed to have a sense that alerted him to when Tom was nearby, and when Tom was, Harry made an effort to get away from him as quickly as possible without being seen— except he had been. This in mind, Tom found himself a nice secluded section of the library to study away from the current madness that was Harry Potter. He had just finished his school work and was making good progress on his side projects, when a box was shoved so far in front of his face that he had to lean back into the bookshelf behind him in order to avoid it. He looked at it for a second, confused, before looking up at the arms holding it. It was Harry.

“And where have you been all day?”

“Last minute wrapping job, but I couldn’t find tape anywhere and I needed time.”

“What?”

Harry gestured vaguely at the box.

“What’s this?”

“What do you mean what’s this? It's your gift.”

Tom gave him a dry look.

“My gift.”

“Yes! Just take it already you bastard!”

“Such language,” he said.

He took it anyway, held it for a moment just to stare at it. He had forgotten it was his birthday, but evidently, evidently Harry had not.

He unwrapped the gift carefully, folding the paper to be used for another time, and released the lid from its burden as a box top, to reveal two plush people. He believed they were made in what was called ‘chibi’ style.

“It’s us.”

“It is! Aren’t we cute!”

“Why does mine look so annoyed?”

Harry startled into a laugh.

“What do you mean? Your constant mood is annoyed Tom.”

“It is not. I smile sometimes and things,” he said, looking annoyed.

Harry grinned and held the imposter up to Tom’s face.

“Merlin— you look exactly alike!”

“That’s so rude.”

“I only speak the truth.”

“Whatever.”

He watched Harry cover a laugh, and turned away when he felt a blush burn into his cheeks.

“Oh my god are you blushing?”

More covered laughter.

“Yes. I happen to dislike the teasing being made toward my person.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.”

Tom frowned at him.

“Seriously! Sorry!”

“I suppose.”

“Are you pouting? Tom!”

Harry laughed and elbowed him lightly in the arm, but Tom watched him this time, struck by his laughter, and his smile, and him: enchanted.

“Why are you staring? Do you want me to apologize again?”

He was still laughing, or trying not to, but Tom found he didn’t mind so much and just smiled.

“No, I believed you the first time.”

“Well what is it then—“

Tom kissed him, light and warm, with something fluttering in his stomach, some hope that Harry shared the sensation of being light enough to walk on air. He pulled back.

“Oh...”

He sounded dazed and Tom smiled again, satisfied. 

“You enchant me.”

“Tom!”

Harry blushed and Tom felt the airy sensation drift further up into his chest until it hugged him almost painfully.

“I only speak the truth.”

Harry stared at him, bright and sweet and _ Harry _ ; Tom looked back at him, blind with the intensity of it all, happy, and smiled.

“I told you I smiled. You should know best. They’re all for you.”

“I, oh.”

Harry hadn’t stopped blushing yet and Tom felt rather proud of himself.

“Well, do you like it? The uh, gift?”

“I love it, thank you for the gift Harry.”

Harry grinned, “You’re welcome. Thanks for the kiss.”

“Would you like another?” 

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”

Tom smiled, and did.


	3. Favoritism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dumbledore has always loved Harry, and hated Tom; Tom treats this as a fact of life. Harry is not so accepting of it.

“Tom?”

Harry’s voice was faint compared to Tom’s frantic flipping of pages, but he heard anyway.

“Over here.”

He scowled down at his essay, clicking his pen incessantly, ballpoint to his cheek, and elbow practically glued to the desk.

“Tom? What are you doing?”

Harry’s voice loomed just over his head and Tom scribbled another line down.

“Homework.”

“But we don’t have any more homework for the year! Summer—”

“Professor Dumbledore said that I didn’t participate actively enough during class. This is to bring my grade back up to an A.”

“Dumbledore? What! But you take so many notes!”

Tom’s stomach clenched, along with his fists, and he pressed the pad of his thumb onto the top of the pen, releasing it with a sigh. He set the pen down, pointer finger running over the indent left on his thumb with a forced absence.

“He said I had to speak.”

“That’s not even in the criteria for the class.”

“I know. I told you he hates me.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. He doesn’t trust me.”

“He has no reason not to trust you! Sure you’re a bastard,” Tom snorted at this, “but you can’t make up a bunch of bullshit just because of that. Not participating my arse— you probably participate more than our whole grade put together.”

“That’s touching Harry, but unless you talk to him yourself, he won’t listen to reason.”

“He shouldn’t be listening to me and not you either.”

“Favoritism, it happens.”

“Well it shouldn’t and it’s not fair. In fact, I will go talk to him.”

“But I’ve almost finished the essay.”

Harry looked at him with clear incredulity.

“So you’re just going to let him get away with it? You’re just going to give him the essay?”

“What else am I supposed to do?”

“You’re Tom Riddle! Do something all charming and sweet and change his mind.”

“And he’s Albus Dumbledore, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to change his mind without some true miracle.”

“But you make miracles happen all the time. You make them happen so often, I’m starting to think you’re the miracle.”

Tom smiled, head still bent toward the desk, and warmth clung to the inside of his chest like hair to a balloon, and his thoughts fizzled in place like static.

“Tom?”

“It won’t work for me this time.”

Still, he kept his smile.

“But—”

“Harry, it’s alright.”

He looked up from the desk at last and held out a hand to Harry.

“Come with me to give it to him?”

“Yeah, okay. I’m still gonna give him a piece of my mind.”

He took the offered hand. Tom squeezed it in a supportive gesture, picked his pen up again with his other hand and wrote out his last line.

“Then off we go.”

Tom stood and pulled Harry closer, pressing a kiss to his head and bringing his fingers through Harry’s hair, feathery like quills and softer than fur; he closed his eyes for a moment before Harry’s voice waded through the silence.

“Don’t fall asleep on me now, Dumbledore, remember!”

“I do,” he pulled away enough for Harry to see his smile; “come, my Harry. To Dumbledore we go.”

Tom grabbed his essay and left the library with Harry’s hand still in his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but I have a feeling this fic is going to just end up being a lot of tiny fragments of different moments in Tom and Harry’s life.


	4. A Showdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom planned on quietly handing over his essay to his Professor and Headmaster: Dumbledore, but Harry has very different ideas. Dumbledore wasn’t ready either way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyy surprise it’s another chapter. I’ve been on a roll lately. Maybe we’ll all keep getting lucky.

“Good evening Profe—”

Harry stepped on Tom’s foot and moved in front of him with the same kind of determination that princes used to scale towers and slay dragons.

“Professor Dumbledore.”

Dumbledore’s gaze shifted from Tom to Harry as quickly as his face changed from a frown to a smile.

“Harry, how have you been doing this week?”

There was a genuine warmth in his voice, and Tom shoved down the routine jealousy at the knowledge; it had always been this way, and Harry deserved all the love anyone gave him anyway.

“I’ve been doing well Professor, but I’m afraid I can’t say the same for you— please don’t speak— giving extra homework to Tom! Respectfully, what were you thinking sir? Tom is a prodigious genius that out participates the amount of work the whole school does on the daily.”

Dumbledore smiled at Harry with the usual amount of understanding that seemed to make Harry so fond of him; Tom was happy to see that it didn’t look like it was working this time.

“Ah Harry, that is indeed true, but Tom didn’t participate by way of vocally interacting: asking questions, offering answers.”

Harry swelled with silent anger but Tom could feel it filling the space between the two of them, almost physically palpable, and he wondered if Dumbledore could feel it too.

“Sir, as the fair professor you are, at the beginning of the year you handed out a paper with all the criteria required to pass your class, and I know vocally participating was not a requirement on it.”

“That is also true Harry, and as I’m sure you recall from your own reading of it, vocal participation is on the paper, if not heavily focused on.”

“What!? No it’s not! I read the paper front to back and vocal participation was not on it!”

“I’m sorry Harry, I’m afraid you must have missed it then.”

Dumbledore rummaged around the papers on his desk before pulling a single one from it with a tiny flourish that made it almost impossible for Tom to resist rolling his eyes; Tom decided he didn’t really care what Dumbledore thought at this point and did it anyway.

“As you can see Harry, vocal participation is on the page.”

“What? That can’t be right— Tom is even more thorough than me.”

Was he really though? Tom’s heart sped up until his mouth was full and heady with each beat and the anxiety hugged his stomach like it was a particularly close friend after a long separation; he was usually so careful but even he made mistakes. Tom spoke again for the first time since Harry had initially interrupted him.

“Sir… I don’t remember seeing anything on my own sheet, but it is possible I did overlook something, would it be alright if I retrieved my own sheet to review it so I may properly apologize?”

“That won’t be necessary Tom, you can simply look at this one.”

“While I do respect you sir, I’m afraid trust goes both ways, and as you don’t trust me, I don’t trust you either. You could have made a new copy with different criteria and I would like to review my own.”

“What? No! Stop! Trust or no, mistake or none, Tom shouldn’t have to review anything, or even be here discussing this in the first place! He does all extra credit work, surely one of those can count for something.”

Dumbledore looked considering, or at least like he was trying to act considering, before shaking his head.

“Really Harry, I’m sorry, but the extra credit is just that, extra. If he didn’t fulfill the initial base criteria I cannot let other work fill its place.”

“That’s utter bullshi—!”

Tom put a hand lightly over Harry’s mouth and moved in closer as if you whisper into the other’s ear but Harry shoved his hand aside.

“Bullshit. It’s bullshit! I know for a fact I didn’t actively participate in the other ways Tom did, which were also requirements in the criteria! If Tom’s grade has been dropped mine has to be dropped too, or, or… I quit the basketball team. If that’s not enough, then I accept one of the countless offers from Beauxbaton school I’ve gotten over the years. I will leave, and I won’t come back. I know Hogwarts has been making a lot more money off my name since I came here, and I know it needs it. You’re good, but you’re still small.”

Dumbledore looked completely thrown, and while Tom was glad to look outwardly satisfied, he was inwardly mystified himself.

“Harry, please reconsider.”

Dumbledore looked like he wanted to say more but didn’t know where to begin, and Harry pressed forward.

“I won’t have to reconsider anything if you bring Tom’s grade back up to an A.”

Harry stretched a hand out and snatched Tom’s essay from his hand, waving it in Dumbledore’s face.

“Your second option is, I write an essay too for not fulfilling your class requirements, which I’m still not even sure if you’re lying about that, but I prefer the first option. The third option is I quit basketball. The fourth is I leave the school. Both ways you lose money.”

“Harry—”

“An eye for an eye Professor. You take Tom down even one notch, I will bring Hogwarts down too.”

The expression on Harry’s face, or rather lack of it, was harder than steel, and what a rock would see if it saw its reflection. The anxiety in Tom’s stomach was swiftly pushed aside by a tide of warmth like the sun on water far out at sea, and for a moment it took everything in Tom not to smile.

“I’ll go with you if you go to Beauxbaton, I’ve gotten a few offers too.”

“I know you have Tom, I wouldn’t have said Beauxbaton if I didn’t know you could go too.”

“Harry—”

“What is your answer Professor?”

Dumbledore sighed and frowned at Harry and then Tom in turn.

“I will bring Tom’s grade back up.”

Dumbledore glanced at the essay.

“And… no essay required.”

Instantly Harry’s face was swept into a grin, and he handed Tom’s paper back to him.

“Thank you sir. Have a nice evening!”

He took Tom’s hand again, which had become dislodged at some point during Harry’s cold enraged passion, and pulled him out the door of Dumbledore’s office.

“Harry, that was quite amazing.”

“This is why I’m a Slytherin Tom. Now don’t mention it I was only making sure things played out fairly.”

Tom laughed and the bag of rice in Harry’s torso shifted again until he thought it might burst open and cook along with the other boiling emotions in his stomach. There was something so potent that Harry thought it would create its own aroma and he squeezed Tom’s hand.

“You enchant me,” Tom said.

A smile split Harry’s face and it didn’t leave when he leaned his head on Tom’s chest to listen to the beating of the other’s heart. 

“But you enchanted me first.”

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Thanks for reading! Sorry again about not updating other stories :/ I’m not very good with multi chapter fics.
> 
> EDIT: Maybe I’ll add another chapter to this; I do like how this turned out. But if I do more than that it’ll be purely on a chapter to chapter basis so that I can update the fic easily if need be. If anyone that sees this wants more leave a comment— normal comments are always welcome too! Thanks


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